


scars

by Septemberrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Marauders' Era, Pain, Trauma, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:28:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septemberrie/pseuds/Septemberrie
Summary: Some early third year Wolfstar angst for NaNoWriMo discipline.





	scars

“When does it usually stop hurting?”

Remus looks up, surprised by the question. Sirius’ grey eyes stare back at him, as fixed as the stone walls behind him. Nobody’s ever asked him that before.

He deflects his own gaze back down to his scarred forearms and resists the urge to trace the fresh bite mark he’d inflicted on himself last night. They don’t usually ask. They usually avert their eyes to alleviate their own discomfort, their own embarrassment as his condition.

“I dunno.” Remus swallows and feels the flush starting to creep up his neck. He hasn’t even been back at school two days, and he’s already in the hospital wing. A sudden ache pierces his temple and he winces. “Sometimes a week. Sometimes more.”

Sirius nods, his charcoal fringe sweeping into his eyes until he pushes it back. “Bloody hell.”

Desperate to do something with his idle hands, Remus reaches for his transfiguration book and flips to a random page they haven’t reached yet. A ghastly illustration gapes up at him, a young man hideously mistransfigured into an elder tree, but Remus doesn’t really see it. Sirius nudges Remus’ thigh, and he begrudgingly looks back up into those relentless grey eyes. He rolls back his left sleeve, and Remus can count three, four, five burn marks, shiny pearls of misery against the flesh.

“Mine’s almost all gone.”

It’s now Remus’ gaze that’s transfixed, until Sirius shakes his arm until the sleeve slips back to cover the welts. “Not the stuff up here, though.” Sirius points to his head, using the hand of the burned arm.

Remus feels something clench in his stomach that it’s pain, but somehow worse. Pity. Injustice. Indignation.

“No,” he says and shakes his head. “The shit up there never stops hurting.”


End file.
